


The Gang Relaxes

by CateBeLate



Category: Marvel, Marvel AU - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mostly just Steve gets drunk, Thank Thor for that, The Gang Gets Hammered, Who doesn't love a drunk captain america, party time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateBeLate/pseuds/CateBeLate
Summary: Just your typical party at the Tony's Avengers Tower with regular alcohol and godly alcohol. But when Steve finds out the hard way he can get drunk, can he keep his mouth shut? Spoiler alert: no, he cannot.





	The Gang Relaxes

It was a Tuesday morning in the summer. 

The sun broke over the cityscape’s silhouette, echoing off the mirrored windows of New York’s tallest buildings, bringing a blurry-eyed populace to life after a weekend of unrelenting freedom. Debauchery had been afoot in those midnight hours, soaked in alcohol and stained with cigarette smoke. This pertained heavily to those of the more normal stature, but this weekend had been one of the rare moments in which the aptly named ‘Supers’ had a day or two of respite. 

This was enough cause for celebration.

With golden mead from Thor’s reserves and the skeleton remnants of Tony’s dusty own, those who defended the world had taken it upon themselves to slump their shoulders in relaxation. The weight of the world could be lifted, if just for one night. What had originally been a small affair ballooned into something befit the red carpet.

A few calls may or may not have been made. 

“What? We’re allowed to let loose every now and then,” the futurist spoke over the rim of his virgin Shirley Temple. A shameless man could not be ribbed over his drink choice. “Besides, when was the last time everyone washed their uniforms, hm?”

A mixture of grimaces and snickers answered his question as the question was mulled over at the behest of his raised eyebrows. 

“You’re all filthy animals,” he followed up in the absence of concrete answers.

“Filthy, yes, but joyous nonetheless.” Even with his “indoor voice”, Thor could be heard over the mass of people mingling around them. He’d even raised his stein in appreciation, bringing the others of the patchwork family to follow suit in the myriad of glasses. “Besides, I quite enjoy my Asgardian garbs. Do you not?”

“I like it in the same way I like the Smithsonian: on occasion,” Tony fired back with an overly saccharine sweet smile.

“You’ve had a stain on your cape for the past three weeks. We’ve all been taking bets on what it is.” Clint had been the one to shed light on the sort of secret pool they were all in on, prompting the god to look down at his cape to at least ascertain the stain’s presence. 

Collectively, the Avengers held their breath as the fabric was brought up for closer inspection.

“By the Gods, this is ketchup. When did we last feast upon hamburgers?” Silence among the heroes followed once more as they all dug through memories for a timeframe.

“Two weeks ago, man,” Bruce quietly offered from behind the floor lamp, as if the furniture would hide him from the world. “How is it not moldy yet?”

From there, the relaxed titans would speak further of Thor possibly eating something with ketchup much sooner, but it was drowned out as the music persisted and the drinks flowed. Minutes passed to hours, leaving most of the invites to meander their way out the doors and into the night. A warm hum seemed to vibrate through those who were easily intoxicated and even those who were deemed impossible to feel anything. But they’d never accounted for something stronger than earthly ales. 

“This’s...really strong, what.” Most of the group managed to catch a glimpse of a very rare sight, one that brought delight and mischief to course through them. “What is this?”

The good Captain was feeling a little foggy after having some of whatever was in Thor’s flask. The god merely smiled.

“It is the nectar of the gods, Steven Rogers. And I’m impressed! No mortal man could ever have so much as a taste and remain standing, but you! You’ve had but three glasses and are still upright! This calls for another.” 

Though the Thunder God poured another, Steve felt inclined to step away from the bar in order to sit and wait for the world to stop spinning this fast. Water would be nice, he surmised, glancing about and realizing that no one else was sitting. Why? This was strange. For someone who couldn’t get drunk on any other day, Steve sure felt like a lightweight. 

The glass of water came into view half a second before a body sat down next to him. Steven needn’t even look over to know that the famed Black Widow had taken up a spot beside him. Senses were buzzing with alcohol before, but now, they were sparking to life at the proximity. This wasn’t fair. There were times in which he cursed the serum, and that moment was climbing the list to being the number one curse. 

“You look like you need some help,” she said, handing the glass over to him. Why did her voice sound like velvet? Did it always? Get your head in the game, Rogers. “I’m surprised you took Thor up on his offer. I saw Tony do it once, and he was in bed the whole next day eating Saltines and watching daytime television.” 

Steve couldn’t look at her. Nope. Not with these background feelings trying to bully their way up to the forefront of his mind. But he could hear the smile in her voice, and could vividly imagine the curl of crimson. He had to rub his face before taking to the water. 

“I’ll be fine,” he finally said after finishing half the glass. “Pretty sure I’ll sober right up b’fore I go to bed.” 

Come with?

Wait. No. Don’t say that. Wow, he can feel the warmth of her body right there.

Stop IT, ROGERS.

“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and not believe that. You’re a pretty super guy, but I’m thinking that nectar might have you beat.” There was a soft hum of a chuckle tailing her words, and every part of Steve wanted to look over at her. But he couldn’t. He knew that if he did, a plethora of word vomit would be out of his mouth.

“This’sn’t the first time I’ve been drunk, Nat. C’mon.” Shit. Okay. He could feel her eyes on him, studying every move he made to see if he was lying or not. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t lying. Mostly sure. Did she buy it? Did he even buy it? The world was swirling around him in a way that was so disorienting and all Steve wanted to do was lay down.

Would she mind if he put his head in her lap for a little bit?

What are you THINKING, Steven Grant Rogers?

“Okay, fine.” Oh good, she believed him, which was more of a shock to him than anything. “Regardless, try to eat something before bed. And drink water, okay?” Her palm fell on his shoulder and it felt like fire. A rosy blush bled into the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears as she stood.

He looked up at her. 

Shit.

She was a vision dressed in just plain jeans and a shirt with ‘Pym Labs’ printed across it in cracked lettering. A well worn shirt. Jeans were rough around the edges but comfortable - her favorite pair. How did he even know this? In a glance, he knew everything he’d come to consciously ignore, but the alcohol was subtly switching his subconscious to front and center. Steve had already known she loved those jeans and that shirt. Knew that she didn’t do anything with her hair as scarlet strands fell in haphazard waves. 

Then he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Nat?” She stopped and pivoted back to look at him with an expectant gaze.

Don’t say it.

Don’t.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to mate–”

Wait. Something’s not right.

Oh no.

“–DATE I MEANT DATE.”

If Steve had been blushing before, he was about to combust now, instantly standing with nerves ruling over his actions. First to come were the nervous chuckles, free hand palming the back of his neck as he refused to look at the reaction on her face.

“Hahaha, wow. Okay, uhm - I think I should skidaddle outta here. Haha.” Oh god, you’re a hot mess. “I’ll uh, yeah- haha. I’ll see you ‘round.” 

And just like that, the whirlwind of drunk Steve Rogers was stumbling his way back to his room to shrivel up and die from embarrassment. It ate away at him until he flopped onto his bed, instantly out like a light. 

While he was embarrassed, Natasha was both confused and amused. She spent the rest of the night enjoying herself with pointless small talk with her colleagues, all the while planning away what would be done in the morning. 

A knock came at Steve’s door just as the sunlight broke out over the city, only to be met with a grumble of sorts. Another knock and there was movement behind the door. Another knock, and it finally opened, revealing that Steve was still wearing the clothes he was wearing the previous night, and that a super soldier could indeed look like death warmed over. 

“Figured you’d have a hangover,” Nat said, holding back a smile too broad. “Brought you aspirin and water.”

“Oh my god, Nat. I don’t even-” Oh no. He remembers. Suddenly, he was very lucid. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry, Rogers. A good greasy breakfast will cure that hangover. Besides, it’ll be a good first date.”


End file.
